


Stardust

by ImpulsivelyFicced



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Also Howard is not as much of a dick as he is in cannon, Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I love this movie, If youve seen the movie you'll understand why the violence tag, Multi, Romance, Stardust (movie) - Freeform, better safe than sorry, i think, though I dont know if I really depict it graphically, yay!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpulsivelyFicced/pseuds/ImpulsivelyFicced
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at the stars because we are human? Pointless really. Do the stars gaze back? Ah, now that is a question.</p>
<p>A country boy and a star that don't really like each other at first go on an adventure. What could go wrong? I mean, besides pirates, warlocks, murderous princes, and falling in love. But those happen everyday, right?</p>
<p>Mostly a Stony cake with Thorki, Clintasha, and Dr. Pepper frosting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm already posting this on fanfiction, but now I've got an AO3 I figure I might as well put it on here. Currently the fic I'm majorly working on, so updates should come eventually, if sporadically.

**Stardust: A Stony Fanfiction**

**Prologue**

A philosopher once asked: Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at the stars because we are human? Pointless really. Do the stars gaze back? Ah, now _that_ is a question. Once, 150 years ago, a small boy wrote a letter. He wrote it to the King's College Observatory in hopes that someone there would be able to answer his question. When one of the astronomers read it, he thought it must surely be a prank. Nevertheless, he duly wrote a reply and posted it back to the young boy, who lived in a small town in the countryside called _Wall_. So named, the boy had written, for the wall that ran alongside it. A wall that, according to local legend, hid an extraordinary secret.

 

A wall that, it just so happened, someone was attempting to cross. "I am charged," a man in his mid-twenties wearing a top hat, velvet cloak, and silver suit was saying to another young man testily, "with guarding a portal to another world and you're asking me to just let you through?" the man's voice was perpetually calm and his hands steady where they gripped his staff, though his eyes burned bright with annoyance.

 

"Yes," the young man in question confirmed, "because, let's be honest, it's a field!" he pointed over the wall to the grass and dark trees swaying in the wind." The man, Howard Stark, was considered by many of the young women in _Wall_ to be quite handsome, if not a little odd. He was smart and inventive, though his family hadn't the money to send him to the college in London.

 

Always trying to learn how things worked and improve them, Howard had figured out how to get the ditches that led from the river to the fields to close as soon as they were full. At the same time, when he tried to make a system that automatically retrieved stock from the shelves, it had blown up in his face and cost his family twenty pounds in lost merchandise. That was a lot of money in those days.

 

Howard also had an odd fascination with the wall, but not in the usual way. Howard was of a practical state of mind despite how often his father accused him of having his head in the clouds. He longed to prove that the wall was just that; a wall.

 

"Look," Howard said, pulling the guard, whose name was Phil Coulson, around to look through the hole in the wall. "do you see another world out there?" the gibbous moon shone down brightly, casting shadows over the tree line, "No, you see a field.  Do you see anything non-human? No. Do you know why?" Howard was getting angry now, but so was Coulson. "Because it's a field!" Howard shouted.

 

"Hundreds of years this wall's been here, and hundreds of years this gap's been under twenty-four hour guard." Coulson was shaking angrily now. Howard really knew how to piss him off, had since they were children.

 

"Well–," Howard tried.

 

"One more word," Coulson cut him off, anger and annoyance seeping into his tone like poison. "and I'll have you in front of the village council!" It was a serious threat because, even though they were the same age, as Wall Guard Phil had as much authority as the Sheriff when it came to his charge.

 

"Well, that sounds rather final." Howard muttered weakly and Coulson nodded sarcastically. "Better just go home then I suppose."

 

Howard sighed and Phil softened a bit. "Good night Howard." Phil said and patted him on the back. "Give my regards to your father."

 

Quick as a flash, as Phil turned away to begin his pacing again, Howard raced to the wall and leapt through the gap. He booked it away from the wall as fast as he could, but Phil seemed reluctant to chase after him. And as Howard disappeared thought the trees at the far end of the field, Phil leaned on his staff. "Wow, that actually worked."

 

XXX

 

Howard jogged quickly through the trees and up a slope, wondering how far he'd be able to see once he reached the top. He could see lights over the rise and wondered if there was a town. He couldn't remember what was in that direction. Ipswich, maybe? But as Howard reached the top of the hill, he began to rethink that. 'That does not look like Ipswich.' he thought. Hell, it didn't look like any town in England.

 

As Howard made his way down to the odd town, he was reminded of the Indian cities he'd seen in his school books. And as he stepped through the heavy gate, Howard realized he had just stepped into an African bazaar. Bright cloths and tapestries hung from everywhere and people dressed in strange clothes jarred past him, talking in rapid-fire English, French, German, and a hundred other languages Howard didn't recognize. One woman in red robes with knotted hair was selling a pair of live miniature elephants in a cage and stuffed bears for children. Two blue eyes very much like his own floated in a jar and as he walked past, they and the other thirty or so eyes turned to watch him.

 

Finally, sitting on the steps of a mustard-colored coach, Howard saw a beautiful woman. Her olive skin gleamed in the torch light and her ebony hair fell in soft waves past her shoulders. Her teal dress and shrug only accented her exotic look and brought out the pink in her lips and cheeks. When she smiled however, Howard felt his jaw go slack. She was stunning.

 

"I don't deal with time-wasters." A gruff voice snarled. Howard looked away from the woman to see the owner of the stall, a bald-headed man with a thick salt-and-pepper beard and broad shoulders, staring him down. "Get over here and tend this stall." he growled at the girl. "I'm off to _The Slaughtered Prince_ for a pint." and with that, he stalked off into the crowd.

 

The beautiful woman sauntered forward, hands on her hips, well aware of her captive audience. "See anything you like?" She asked, tossing her curls and letting her shrug fall from her arms. Howard stood mesmerized. She really had lovely eyes, like the sweetest chocolate with hints of amber and gold.

 

Howard smiled and for the first time in his life stumbled of this words. "D-definitely." he stuttered out and felt his knees go weak when she laughed.

 

"W-wh-what I m-meant was..." Howard's eyes searched the small table in front of him, "was these blue ones. Ah, h-how much are they?" he asked, licking his lips nervously.

 

"They might be the color of your hair." The woman said, her tone playful, her eyes searching, "Or all of your memories before you were three. I can check if you like?" Howard was...confused to say the least. Was she toying with him? "Anyway, you shouldn't buy the bluebells.” She waved her hand dismissively and searched the tray in front of her for a moment. “Buy this one instead." She held up a single white blossom, preserved forever in glass. "Snowdrop." She twirled it. "It'll bring you luck."

 

"But what does that cost?" Howard asked, trying to play along.

 

"This one," she smiled playfully. "Costs a kiss."

 

Howard gulped as she leaned forward and slipped the snowdrop into his jacket pocket. She tapped her cheek and Howard was only too happy to comply. As he leaned forward until he was only a centimeter from her sweet-smelling skin, she turned her head so their lips met. She kissed him passionately, and he kissed back just as fierce. As she drew away playfully, Howard felt himself lean forward as if to follow her.

 

"Is he gone?" The woman asked, glancing in the direction the stall-keeper had headed. Howard looked too and when he looked back, the woman was beckoning him forward. "Follow me." As Howard moved after her, he heard a strange clinking sound. He looked down and saw a thin silver chain tied tight around the woman's ankle dragging in the dust. As he picked it up, she sat down on the steps of the coach. "I am a princess tricked into being a warlock's slave." She said it fast like she knew he wouldn't believe her. "Will you liberate me?"

 

Oddly though, Howard did believe her. She was certainly beautiful enough to be a princess. He reached for his pocket knife and sliced through a loop of the chain. Unfortunately, the chain mended itself before his eyes, leaving him with a small length of the chain in his hand and the princess still imprisoned.

 

"It's an enchanted chain. I'll only be free when he dies." She said sadly. "Sorry."

 

"Well, if I can't free you, what do you want of me?" Howard asked. This woman, this gorgeous princess smiled at him again and held out her hand for him to take. Howard grinned as she led him inside and closed the door of the coach.

 

XXX

 

So the scientist was wrong. The wall had successfully done its job of hiding the magical kingdom of Asgard.

 

Howard returned that night to his village in England, hoping his adventure would soon be nothing more than a fond memory. But nine months later, he received an unexpected souvenir.

 

Phil knocked on the door of Howard's home late one night in early December. When his old friend opened the door, Phil handed him a basket. Wrapped snug against the cold in furs and blankets was a small, pink, crying baby. "He was left at the wall for you." Phil said with a small smile. A child to look after was just what Howard needed. "Says here his name is Anthony."


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Say 'ello to the idiot formerly known as Tony Stark.
> 
> Also, I hate Baldur. And Christine. *stabbity stab stab*
> 
> And Loki and Thor will be getting their happy ending, no worries kiddos.

**Stardust: A Stony Fanfiction**

**Chapter 1**

Eighteen years passed and the baby Anthony grew up. Quite as handsome as Howard but with his mother’s eyes, he now preferred to go by Tony. Tony knew nothing of his unconventional birth or very much more than his small and relatively quiet life in Walle. But never mind how the infant became a boy. This is the story of how Tony Stark became a man, a much greater task all together.

On the ordinary night our story begins, Tony was getting ready to go courting. Tony looked very much like his father with a straight, chiseled jaw, strong nose, and pearly teeth almost always peeking out in a wide, sly grin. The goatee and mustache combo he sported gave him a roguish look, or so the girls of the village said, perfectly offsetting his permanently tanned skin, the only other thing he’d inherited from his lost mother. The subject of Tony’s mother was still a source of gossip discussed ad nauseum when other news was down, but Tony had learned to stop listening. It did alienate him from the other villagers though, and Tony spent the majority of his free time wandering the hills and thinking.

Even so, Tony could probably have had any girl in Wall, so he naturally went for the one that didn’t really like him all that much. Her name was Christine Everhart, the eldest daughter of the Everhart family, the second richest people in town. She was the classic example of beauty; honey gold hair, milk white skin, and cherry red lips. Her pale blue eyes shone cold though, and she could be unnecessarily cruel, but these were traits Tony stead-fastedly ignored. His father had approved of her, which was good enough for Tony. Besides, to become a man, Tony needed to win the heart of his one true love, and there was no doubt in Tony’s mind that if anyone was his true love, it had to be Christine.

So Tony walked with a smile on his face through the cobblestone streets with a bouquet of white daisies clutched in his hand on his way to Christine’s home. A warm glow danced behind the curtains of her window, so Tony plucked up a loose stone and threw it gently at her window. He heard some muffled shuffling and giggles before the window was pushed open to reveal Christine’s heart-shaped face, flanked by her two side-kicks, Annette and Beatrice.

“Justin?” She called excitedly and Tony ignored the way her face fell when she saw him.

“N-no, it’s Tony.” He said as he stepped forward and held out the flowers.

“Oh.” Christine sighed as her face drew closed. “Did I leave something at the office?” Tony worked at the local post office.

“Uh well, no. I just thought I could bring—,” Tony started when the daisies were suddenly smacked out of his hand and a walking stick pressed to his chest. He followed the cane to see Justin Hammer smirking cruelly at the other end.

“Tony Stark, post boy by day, peeping tom by night.” Justin drawled. He was the eldest son of the richest family in Wall and the utter bane of Tony’s existence. “Is there no end to your charms?” Justin asked before pushing hard on his cane and forcing Tony back. Unlike Tony, who worked with his hands and tramped around Wall every day, Justin was one of those simpering little rich snots who considered it beneath him to descend from his carriage on most days. Tony loathed him, but Christine always seemed rather fond of him. And while Tony would have loved to punch Justin in his upturned nose, he’d never wanted Christine to think him violent.

Tony grunted in pain as he was pushed back and he could hear Christine call from her window, “Justin, there’s no need to be like that. Be nice to the poor boy.” Tony scowled but Justin had caught sight o the now decapitated daisies.

“Ah, were those for Christine?” he asked smugly and Tony grabbed a stick. That was it, Justin had finally pushed Tony too far and the brunette was not about to let Justin humiliate him again! Tony crossed Justin as the blond fell back into his fencing stance and lunged. Quick as a flash though, Justin had swung his cane around and knocked Tony’s feet from under him. “You always were useless at fencing in school, Tony.” Justin snickered from above him. “In fact, I’m having trouble remembering if there was anything you _were_ good at besides tinkering with your little toys and reading those god-awful fairytales.” Tony heard the bitterness in Justin’s voice loud and clear and smiled. Tony had always gotten better grades while Justin was better at what he considered “the rights of privilege.” Namely: fencing, debate, polo, and the like.

“Justin…that’s enough now.” Christine cooed from her window, finally taking pity on him, and Tony cursed under his breath.

Walking back towards his house, Tony wondered why he kept trying. Oh, Christine was beautiful save a few minor flaws, but she obviously preferred Justin. That had to be for his money because Justin was a smarmy looking bastard if ever there was one. But Christine was rich, and his father certainly liked her. Tony kicked at a loose bucket and sent it skittering over the cobbles. That was it though. Howard liked Christine and if Tony married into the Everhart line, that would certainly silence the gossips in town. Because Howard was ashamed of Tony. That thought brought the dark haired youth up short and had him gripping the rails of the nearest fence. When the baby Anthony had shown up that snowy December night, it had ruined all of Howard’s chances of marrying a nice, respectable woman. So now it was up to Tony. Well, fine then. Tony would do it. He would marry Christine and finally, maybe, make his father proud.

XXX

The next morning, Tony was running later than late. He went without breakfast and bypassed his father, stopping briefly to give a false account of how “really, really good” the night before had gone, before running all the way to the post office at the far end of town. After a stern tongue lashing from the postmaster, Tony set to work. He manned the front desk in the morning, fetching letters for the people that came in, and spent the afternoon delivering the heavier packages that people either couldn’t manage or were too rich to bother with something as mundane as fetching the post. At least, that would have been the plan, until Christine came in just before noon.

Tony stared at her dumbly for a few moments before realizing she’d just asked for her mail. There was a package for her father, not too cumbersome, but a flutter of her dark eyelashes and Tony was trailing after Christine, package and post in hand. He completely missed his boss’s disbelieving but resigned face.

And later that evening, Tony was rehearsing in front of the mirror. “Father, I lost my job. No. Father, I don’t… I lost my job. I’m sorry. Father I—,”

“You lost your job.” Howard said from the door. “Yes, yes I heard.” He looked resigned, which surprised Tony. He’d expected anger, perhaps even disgust.

“Father, I’m s—,” Tony began, but Howard held up his hand.

“Don’t apologize. Was it Christine?” his father asked.

Tony nodded sadly. “Yeah, she came in and I just… I guess I lost my head.” The young man sighed. “And I had to apologize for last night.”

Howard looked up, surprised. “Last night? But I thought—,”

“You thought it went well? Yeah, well, it didn’t. In fact, I made an utter fool of myself because Justin was there and he decided to pick a fight.” Tony looked away, bitter anger in his eyes.

Howard stared sadly at his son and made up his mind. “Come on Anthony,” Howard _always_ called Tony by his given name. “If you want Miss Everhart, then you’ll get Miss Everhart!”

XXX

And that was how Tony found himself once more outside Christine’s home, a smooth pebble in his hand. He hesitated a moment before the rock was out of his hand and clacking against the window. Christine appeared in a moment, beautiful face twisted, first in confusion, then in annoyance. “Tony…” she began testily.

Tony held up a hand. “Don’t, please. I have a surprise for you.” he pleaded.

Christine sighed in exasperation and disappeared. Tony’s head drooped and he began to turn away when he heard a door open and close quietly behind him. “It’s not my birthday for another couple of weeks you know.” Christine said, walking up to him in a pale pink frock and taking his arm.

Tony had spread out a quilt on the soft grass overlooking the Wall and stuck torches and candles into the ground around it. Pale moths fluttered around the flickering light but thankfully stayed away from the cakes and fruit Tony had laid out. As Christine settled herself daintily on the edge of the cloth, Tony opened a dark green bottle with a loud pop and filled two shallow-bottomed glasses. The pale gold liquid was the same color as Christine’s hair and fizzed loudly, bubbles popping as they reached the surface.

“Oh my god, is that champagne?” Christine asked disbelievingly, helping herself to a strawberry.

Tony merely smiled and handed her a glass. Christine made a noise of surprised contentment after the first sip. “Oh god, this is delicious!”

Tony’s smile brightened. The fizzing liquid was sweet and made the inside of his mouth tingle.

“How on earth,” Christine began after they’d small talked their way through half the bottle, “does a post-boy afford all this? I mean, it must have been all your savings?”

Tony squirmed a little under the half-masted, smoldering gaze Christine was aiming at him. “Well yes, it was. But I can always earn more! And I’m not a post-boy.”

Christine gulped down more of her champagne. “Oh that’s right, I heard! Oh Tony, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be! I didn’t want to be there forever. I’m not a post-boy; I’m a boy that worked in a post office. There’s so much world out there, just waiting to be explored, why would I want to stay in Walle for the rest of my life?”

Christine hummed disbelievingly and took another sip. “Justin’s quite the traveler too you know,” She gloated and drained her glass. “Did you know he’s going all the way to Ipswich to get me a ring for my birthday?” Christine held out her glass for Tony to refill.

Tony had poured the blond woman another glass of champagne before her words truly hit him. “What kind of a ring?”

Christine, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed. “Well, what other kind of ring would it be?” she asked rhetorically.

“Are you going to say yes?” a hint of alarm crept into Tony’s voice.

Christine rolled her eyes. “Well I can’t very well say no.” she conceded. “Not after he’s gone all the way to Ipswich.”

“All the way to Ipswich?” Tony scoffed bitterly. “Christine, I’d go to London for your hand!”  
 Christine’s eyes widened and her eyebrows rose, but she said nothing, trying to goad him on.

“For you, I’d travel to the goldfields of San Francisco, and bring you back your weight in gold!” Christine giggled and leaned in closer. Tony could smell her sweet skin. “I’d travel to Africa and bring you back a diamond the size of your fist!” Christine’s hand crept closer. Just as their lips were about to meet, Tony promptly stuck his foot in his mouth. “I’d travel to the Arctic and bring you back a polar bear to hand on your wall.” He would later blame it on nervousness.

Christine pulled away sharply, a scowl of disgust painted over he lovely features. “A polar bear? I think I need to leave.” She began to rise unsteadily, champagne glass still clutched tight in her hand.

Tony rose to his knees, reaching out to help Christine keep her balance. “Oh no, don’t!” he exclaimed and Christine stopped, tottering dangerously. “Let’s… let’s at least finish the champagne alright?” He held up the bottle like bait. Christine’s eyes narrowed but she settled back down and Tony poured her another glass.

He felt totally humiliated and, had Tony known about the Stars, I’m sure he would have been mortified at the very thought of there being an audience to his shame. But luckily for young Anthony Stark’s pubescent ego, which will probably not survive this narrative anyway, nearly every eye in the sky was turned towards the kingdom across the Wall.

For you see, the ruler of Asgard, King Odin, had been gravely ill for some time now, yet he still had four sons. By Asgardian law and tradition, only one was allowed to be king and he had to kill his brothers in order to take the crown. Seven had become four, but his Highness was failing fast and many feared he would not last the night. The last four; the three eldest and one youngest, were all strong but tension had been riding high between the absolute eldest, golden-haired Thor, and the absolute youngest, green-eyed Loki, who had been more than close as children. Still, the law was the law. Except not, because four princes and one dying king did not make for a happy monarchy. Now the world watched with bated breath as Prince Baldur strode toward his father’s chambers

XXX

Most people pictured dying kings as wraith-like slips of bone and skin. Kind Odin of Asgard did not fit that stereotype, not one bit. Even as he sat propped against several feet of pillows because he could not support himself any longer, his icy stare was as fierce as the day he’d been crowned. And, even as his lungs faulted him, he could still shout loud enough to break frailer pieces of glass and men. “Baldur!” he called for his late wife’s favorite child. “Baldur? Where is Baldur?” He demanded of his already gathered children.

“He is coming Father,” Fandral, the handsome one going by the ladies that clung to him at every pub, tried to reassure. Secretly, all three present brothers were divided between hope that Baldur had somehow gotten himself killed, and the blind hope that he simple wouldn’t show up. These hopes were dashed however when Baldur strutted through the doors confidently, as though he already had the crown.

Loki wanted nothing more than to sink a knife through his brother’s throat, but their father had forbade them from bringing weapons that evening. Of course, that did not mean he wouldn’t be able to manage a little…accident. Just then, Odin began to speak. “Ah Baldur, finally. We were beginning to worry. After all, we cannot begin to discuss the matter of succession without you.”

“Of course father,” Baldur said graciously, smirking snidely at his siblings. He’d always been Queen Frigga’s favorite and played it for all it was worth. Now, even with their mother long dead, he still expected everyone to love him like she had. Which led to his sad delusion that Odin was about to crown him king. In all honesty, Odin couldn’t stand the spoiled twerp. Not that Baldur knew that. Thor was Odin’s favorite, but even he had recognized the sadistic and devious tendencies of his youngest. Odin had always put his money on Loki to become the next king, and was willing to help him.

“Baldur, go to the window and tell me what you see.” Odin commanded, settling back into the cushions of his bed. As Baldur strode to the balcony, Odin was thrown into a violent coughing fit and reached out, his eyes glazing over momentarily. “Maria?” He asked weakly, grasping the arm of his third child’s robe. “Maria?”

“N-no father, i-it’s Fandral. Your son. No  one has seen Maria in years.” The blond reminded him, prying his father’s hand from the silky fabric.

Odin seemed to come back to himself, and he turned to look despairingly at his youngest. “Oh Loki, you know only a male child can ascend the throne.”

Loki smirked, a bit taken aback. “Of course father. So why would I bother killing my favorite sister when these idiots are still alive?” Even as he said the words, Loki’s eyes scoured the room to look for something to stare at other than Thor. Despite the seven year age differences between the eldest and youngest sons, Thor and Loki were closer with each other than any other of their siblings. Closer even than that, but no one could know just how _close_ the two had become. Now Loki feared above all else that it would be down to himself and Thor to vie for the throne. Loki wanted to be king more than anything, but he didn’t know if he could kill Thor.

Odin, oblivious to his son’s inner turmoil, began to laugh. The laugh turning into a hacking cough. Still, one he could breathe again, Odin appeared to be in high spirits. “Quite right Loki, quite right.” The king turned back to his second eldest child. “Now Baldur, look outside and tell me what you see.”

“I see the Kingdom of Asgard, the mightiest country in all the Nine Realms!” Baldur proclaimed, reciting the creed of their country, a creed he believed still. They all did, except Loki. As the youngest prince, nothing had ever much been expected of him. He was free to roam the city and countryside. He knew the problems that had developed in his father’s last decade of rule, and he understood the dark underworld that had no loyalty to the king. He intended to change that.

But Odin was assuaged by his son’s words. “And?” he asked pointedly.

Baldur glanced back t his father, eyes full of gleeful hope. “My kingdom?”

“Perhaps.” As Baldur turned back to the view, leaning precariously over the railing, Odin’s cold eyes turned to Loki and motioned him towards his brother. But Loki had already seen his opportunity. Careful not to let his heels click on the polished stone floor, the Shadow Prince crept slowly behind his brother. Just as Baldur began to turn from the balcony, removing the hands that kept him steady, Loki pushed. Baldur’s scream was swallowed by the night as he fell over a hundred floors to land with a resounding crack on a patch of mistletoe laden bushes.

Loki smiled with grim triumph as his father began to laugh again. Another coughing fit hit and Odin sobered, as if reminded of his shortened time. “So…four has become three.” He murmured, more to himself than to his children. “But three cannot rule a kingdom. So I suppose the matter of succession falls to me.” The king looked resigned as he lifted a heavy gold chain from around his neck. On the chain hung a bright blue stone, like bluest ocean waters; it was the Tear of Asgard, the royal gem passed down through the generations from king to king.

As soon as Odin released the heavy gold, it hung suspended as though in water. _“Only He of Royale Blood can restore this stone, and shall become King of all Asgard!”_ Odin’s every word rang with magic and as he spoke, the blue began to fade, leaving behind a sparkling diamond. Odin fell back among the cushions and spoke no more, forever.

The stone rotated slowly in the air, as though waiting for one of them to make a grab at it. Fandral fell first to temptation. He tried to snatch the necklace, but it danced teasingly out of his reach before circling each of them and rocketing through the skylight in the ceiling, showering them all in shards of glass.

Outside, the pendant seemed to be nothing more than a sparkle as it soared higher and higher, leaving the earth far behind. As it reached to scrape the sky, it pulled _something_ back with it. The thing gained speed, a cloud of stardust trailing behind it as like blood. Three people watched in astonished revelry as it plummeted back to earth, and knew it for what it was.

On one side of the Wall, a withered old man with blood red skin clinging to his skull hurried inside his home, evil glittering in his eyes. On the other side, two children watched in awe as wishes danced in their heads.

XXX

“Oh!” Christine gasped. “A falling star!” As the star disappeared behind the tree line, the blond settled back onto the blanket. “Oh Tony, can you imagine finding a fallen star? Wouldn’t that be just the best?”

As Tony stared at Christine and the stars reflected in her eyes, something clicked. “Better than a ring from Ipswich?” he asked slowly.

Christine rolled over and looked at him measuringly. “Maybe. But you’d have to cross the Wall. And _nobody_ crosses the Wall.”

“I would!” Tony protested. “I’d do anything for you, Christine.”

“Hm…my very own star…” She mused. Christine grinned and held up her champagne glass. “Deal. You find me that star, and I’ll marry you instead.” As Tony held up his glass, she drew her’s away. “You have three weeks, until my birthday, or I’m marrying Justin.” They clinked.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds out more about his past, Tony and Steve meet and /really/ don't like each other, Tony is a scatterbrain, and someone very familiar is coming to "fetch" Steve with a knife.

**Chapter 2**

Tony made his way down to the Wall on the very same path his father had used all those years ago. _(If that isn’t foreshadowing, I don’t know what is)_ Phil was pacing, as he always was, but stopped to watch as Tony drew nearer. “Ah, Anthony Stark.” Phil was the only other person besides Howard that still called him Anthony. “I must say, I’m not at all surprised to see you down here. Like father, like son I suppose.”

Tony stopped in his tracks about a yard from the wall. “What do you mean?” He asks. Tony has never heard anything about Howard going anywhere near the Wall.

Phil, clearly realizing he’d said to much, tried to wave his words off. “Oh never mind, never mind. How are you tonight, Anthony?”

Now, Tony wasn’t stupid. He knew Phil, and probably his father now he thought about it, was keeping something from him. But, being the romantic kid he was, figured it could wait until he returned. Stupid boy.

“I’m doing fine Phil.” Tony replied cautiously. “And yourself?”

Phil’s shoulder relaxed in relief and he sighed amiably. “As well as can be expected. Twenty-four hour watch is quite taxing. Not to mention all the young children on dares that try to cross the wall that I have to chase off. But it is worth it.”

Tony paused and spared a cursory glance over the wall to the same empty field. He remembered those dares. Not that he had ever participated in any.

“You pose an interesting philosophical question there Coulson. Unfortunately I can’t aruge the semantics of life as a Wall Keeper today. Tony mused, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

Phil leaned on his staff. “And why is that?” He asked conversationally.

“Because I need to cross the Wall.” Tony replied, and waited for the explosion.

Phil’s face hardened into a cold mask and he sighed. “No, Anthony.”

“Why not Phil?” Tony knew he sounded like a petulant child, but couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Because Anthony, it is against my creed. None shall pass!”

“But Phil!”

“I said no.”

Tony let his shoulders sag in disappointment, though an unoriginal, but Tony didn’t need to know that yet, idea was forming in his head. “Well, I guess if that’s your final word…” Tony trailed off sadly.

Phil’s face softened and he walked forward to clap a fatherly hand on Tony’s shoulder. “It is.” He said gently. “Now, off home with you Anthony. Give my regards to your father.” Phil patted him once more before turning back to his chair.

Quick as a sparrow, Tony was running through the gap in the wall. He’d barely got his feet through when Phil barrel rolled over the wall and swatted Tony soundly; once in the stomach, once in the face. Tony fell backwards through the hole, cartwheeling his arms wildly in an attempt to keep his balance. It didn’t work. The second Tony hit the turf on his side, he was scrambling up the slope, his heart pounding in his ears.

Phil leaned on his staff and smiled. “Oh come on Tony, you can do better than that.” And looked up at the stars.

**XXX**

Tony was pressing a cut of meat to his eye when Howard came down the next morning.

“Anthony!” He exclaimed, rushing to his son’s side. “What happened?” Howard asked, looking at the nasty bruise forming under Tony’s eye. “Was it that Justin fellow again?”

Tony sighed. “No dad, it was Coulson, the Wall Guard.” And slapped the meat back over his cheek.

Howard huffed out a disbelieving chuckle. “Anthony, he’s as old as I am.”

“He’s had a lot longer to practice then.” Tony snarked back, hackles raised at his father’s amusement.

Howard sighed and seated himself across from Tony, who removed the meat and set it down. “Why were you trying to cross the Wall?”

Tony looked Howard square in the eye. “I don’t know Dad, why did you?”

**XXX**

Howard pulled the small wicker basket from a nook at the back of the attic. Tony seldom went back there, but he could see by the foot trails and drag pattern through the layers of dust that his father did. Tony settled himself against the low wall and Howard set the basket beside him.

“Phil delivered you to me in this very basket, almost 19 years ago now.” Howard said, seating himself next to his son. “It’s all I have left of Maria. Except for you.” Howard began to sort through the basket’s content. Tony wanted to reach in, help, but he could see the tension in his father’s shoulders and felt that the event was special to Howard.

Suddenly, his father held up a white flower that looked as though it had been freshly picked just moments ago. “Oh!” Tony exclaimed. “The-the flower she sold you…” This sudden concrete proof that the story Howard had told was real felt precious. Without a word, Howard slipped the flower into his son’s lapel.

Next, Howard pulled a hand span of thin, silver chain from the basket. “And the chain you cut!” Tony took it carefully, twisting the strand this way and that in the candlelight. Barely in his hand a minute, and the chain wove itself around his wrist. Tony panicked and pulled at the chain, and it unfused. Back and forth, back and forth, Tony watched the chain unfuse and grow longer and shorter and fuse back together again, moving at less than a thought. “It still works…” Howard murmured in awe. Finally, Tony let the chain wrap around his wrist for safe keeping.

There was only one thing left in the basket, besides the swaddling clothes that kept the baby Anthony safe on that cold night. Howard handed Tony the rolled up parchment, tied with a scarlet ribbon. “I’ve never opened it. It’s addressed to you.”

Tony took the scroll with shaking hands, pulling the bow apart and sliding thered silk into his pocket. He unraveled the scroll and read aloud:

_My dearest Anthony,_

_It grieves my heart to give you up, and if my mistress would allow it, I would keep you here with me forever. But I know you will be so much safer with your father. My dearest wish is to someday see you, and the fastest way to travel is by candlelight. So I send you to your father with a Babylon Candle. To use it, strike the wick and think only of me. I shall think of you every day, for always._

_All my love,_

_Your Mother_

Tony let his head fall back against the wall with a heavy thunk, palming the black candle that had dropped into his hand from the letter absently. Howard was watching him carefully. “I…I have a mother.” Tony began breathlessly. “I mean, I _have a mother!_ She…she could still be alive!” And he began to laugh, the half-manic laugh of a person that has just been given the most unexpected but most hoped for news of his life.

Howard chuckled. “I like to think so. In fact, I rather hope so. I always…” he trailed off, looking but not _seeing_ the dusty attic, and Tony suddenly realized that Howard missed Maria too. After a moment, the elder Stark coughed and seemed to shake himself. Looking down at the candle in his son’s hand, he asked, “Are you going to try it?”

Tony held up the candle, barely believing that it would work. “Do you have a light?”

Howard pulled a box of matches from his waistcoat pocket and struck one before holding the small flame to the wick. In a flash of brilliant blue-white light, Tony vanished.

A hundred miles away, Tony rematerialized and fell into the lap of a tall, blond haired, blue eyed star.

XXX

In an abandoned castle sitting in the cavernous hollow formed by three waterfalls meeting, a man rushed to wake his brothers. Malicious glee burned in his eyes as he ripped the blankets from the bed. “Ivan! Thanos! Wake up, now!”

“Is too early…” Ivan snorted, turning over and pulling a lavish pillow over his head.

“Leave us Johann, we are tired!” Thanos cursed, flinging a pillow and grabbing for the blankets.

“A star has fallen!” Johann declared viciously, and in mere moments the others were up and wide awake.

“What?” They shouted together, scrabbling to pull themselves from the grips of both sleep and age. For they are all nearing the age most would describe as decrepit. Ivan’s skin hung loosely from his body like melting puddy, streaks of silver ran rivers through his hair, and spots danced like gruesome constellations across his skin. A spider web of creases and wrinkles had invaded even Thanos’s lips, the ragged rat-tail that trails down his back looked like it has been centuries since it’s last wash, and the muscles that once coiled around his arms have long since turned to bags of flesh that hang from weak arms. Only Johann’s face does not betray his age, yet the effects of the centuries are still gruesome. His face, the only skin he allows to show looks like a skull dipped in molten wax. A poorly incanted potion in Johann’s relative youth condemned him to the fate, and only one cure could ever serve to quench the fire that roiled below his skin.

“Where did the star fall?” Thanos asked as the two warlocks gathered eagerly around the third.

“I do not know.” Johan conceded. “I only saw it fall. But I know how we can find out.”

And all three brothers nodded.

The rabbit struggled as it was pulled from the cage, but they always did. Besides, it made the evisceration so much more fun, if not a bit messier. And if they had to kick a few cages of other animals to get them to shut up, well that was fine by them.

Ivan slid a knife from head to tail and all three warlocks leaned in. “If these divinations are correct,” Thanos murmured, “then the star lays 100 miles from here.” He straightened with a wicked smile. “An easy distance by candlelight!”

Johan flung open the cabinet doors and threw a rat to the floor. “Where are the Babylon Candles?” he shrieked angrily.

“You use last one to fetch previous star, remember?” Ivan berated.

“Perhaps we could find another?” Thanos asked.

“Fool!” Johan shouted. “You speak as if such things are readily available!”

“I merely thought…” Thanos began defensively.

“Thought to have us preoccupied with searching for an item preceded in rareness only by that which we would seek with it! And in the meantime, another warlock or witch would find our star!”

“One of us much go and fetch it on foot then.” Ivan decided, and the three brothers turned back to the dissected rabbit. Six eyes close and three hands reach into the still warm cavity to search for their right to leave their squalid hovel. Two eyes flash open and glance to see if either of his brothers have done the same. Satisfied that his treachery shall not be known, Johan peered close into the bloodied interior for his prize. Just as his hand closes around it, his brothers begin to withdraw, and so too does he.

“I have his liver…” Thanos said sadly.

“I haf a kidney…” Ivan muttered as he looked close at the appendage with interest.

“And I’ve his heart.” Johan declared proudly, showing the bloodied organ to his brothers.

They both sneered at him, but Ivan dutifully went to fetch their most precious belonging. The box had all their most powerful binding spells and required all three brother’s consent to release the tattered bow that held it shut tight.

“You’ll need the last of the old on if you’re to undertake that journey.” Thanos said as the three pointed and the bow unknotted and slid off.

Johan bulled the box forward eagerly. Pure, white light spilled over the mangled faces of the warlocks as he lifted the lid and pulled out the last vestige of their first victim.

“Not much left. It won’t last long, you’d better be quick.” Ivan warned.

Johan smiled as he stared at the mound in his hands. “Worry not brothers, soo there will be enough for all of us.” He walked over to a large mirror and pulled away the blanket covering the face. He wanted to see his youth return. Lifting the elixir-like substance to his lips, Johan swallowed it down. Almost immediately, the searing under his skin was quenched and Johan stared raptly as his skin faded to smooth parchment and his face rounded out as flesh materialized on his cheeks. His hair, dark chestnut and thick, began to grow back, falling neatly just shy of his ears. Johann pulled his glove off and watched in awe as the fingers, which before had looked so very much like crimson bones, fleshed out and grew supple once more. He turned, brilliant and handsome once more, to smile engagingly at his brothers.

They scowled in return, but begrudgingly began to dress him in finest black leather breeches and silken tunic, lest his ancient rags betray his true identity. Once dressed, Johann grimaced at the squalor of their home, seeing the grime anew with fresh eyes. “Ugh, this place is disgusting.” He complained as Ivan pressed the bone runes into his hand and Thanos presented him with a selection of knives. “Clean up while I’m gone and make this place fit for the kings we are.”

Thanos rolled his eyes. “Just find the star brother.” He said.

“Do not worry,” Johann assured, selecting a large dagger. “that star is as good as ours.”

XXX

Tony’s mind was probably still back in Wall as he sat up and realized he was basically straddling the man below him. “Oh…” he murmured, “Well, you are definitely not my mother…”

“You think?” The man grunted, and pushed Tony off.

Tony lay, sprawled in the dirt until his brain caught up with his body. He sat bolt upright and looked around wildly. “Where is she then?” he asked no one in particular.

“Where is who?” The other man asked. He was sore and confused and really in no mood to do anything but wallow right where he was, but it was in his nature to be helpful and guiding. Even if the oaf he was attempting to help had landed on him.

“My mother! I was supposed to be going to her!” He ran over the directions from his mother’s letter quietly. “Light the candle and think only of me… well, I was! Oh but then Christine and the star just popped into my head and—” Tony cut himself off with a gasp.

The man Tony had landed on stared at him with confusion. “What are you looking for now?”

Tony pulled himself to his feet, looking up at the walls of the crater they were sitting in. “This must be where it fell…” he muttered, more to himself than to the other man. And he turned his attention to the ground, spinning around as he looked about. Finally, when a cold uncertainty had crept into his stomach, Tony turned to the blond, who was still sitting on the ground. “Um, excuse me? I’m sorry, and this is going to sound insane but… have you seen a star anywhere around here?”

The man stared at Tony for a minute, eyebrow raised in a move scarily similar to one of Howard’s. Then, he seemed to realize that Tony was serious. “You know, yeah I have seen a star.” The man said, every word dripping sarcasm.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I mean it! Didn’t you see it fall earlier? And we’re in a crater, so this must be where it fell!”

Blondie looked around, nodding slowly. “Oh yeah,” he said conversationally. “This is definitely where it fell. In fact, if you want to get really specific,” his voice turned hard and bitter as he pointed up to the sky. “right up there is where it was until this _stupid thing_ ,”he tugged angrily at a pendant that was fastened around his neck, “comes up and just knocks it out of the sky. And _then_ , some idiot lands on it and doesn’t even have the courtesy to apologize!”

It took Tony a minute to catch up to all this, but when he did, his mouth dropped open. “You mean…Y-you’re the star?” he asked weakly.

“What gave you that idea?” the man, star?, spat before throwing himself back into the dirt to stare moodily up at his home.

“Oh…” Tony breathed, mind whirring off in a thousand different, desperate, confused ways. Seeing that the star was pretty well distracted by his moping, Tony moved fast, snatching up one of the hands laying idly on the ground and looping the magic chain around his wrist and letting it play out through his fingers. Tony backpedaled quickly, just in case the star started swinging since he was much bigger than Tony. But the star seemed more surprised than angry, clearly not realizing what was going on. The surprise melted into panic though when he tugged and the chain wouldn’t undo. The pull almost dragged Tony hoff his feet however, and he quickly looped the other end around his own wrist.

“Let me go!” The star shouted, shaking his wrist as though doing so enough would shake the chain off.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.” Tony replied, hanging onto the chain for dear life. “You’re going to be a birthday present for Christine.”

The star stopped, mostly out of pure surprise. Then, he began to laugh. “Oh yes because that’s just what every woman wants for her birthday; a poor, injured, man! Oh wait, maybe that’s the idea! She might even grow to like me better than you!”

Tony scowled and shoed his hands in his pockets, shame and embarrassment painting his face red. Then, his fingers brushed smooth wax and an idea popped into his head. “If you come with me, I promise to put you back in the sky.”

That stopped the star’s laughter and he looked back at Tony suspiciously. “And just who are you that you think you can put a star back in the sky?” His tone was mocking, but his eyes shone hopeful.

“My name is Tony Stark, and well,” he pulled out the black candle, “I always heard that the best way to travel was by candlelight.”

The star’s blue eyes narrowed. “You’ve got a Babylon Candle?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a babbling candle.”

“Babylon candle.”

“That’s what I said.”

“No it isn’t. You said babbling.”

“The point is-!” Tony shouted, shaking off his annoyance and child-like need to win the argument. “The point is, I was going to use this to get us back to the Wall, but I don’t see why you can’t use it to get home. Now, do we have a deal or not?”

The star considered it. “Let me get the straight: If I go with you and show up at this woman’s-”

“Christine.”

“ _Christine’s_ birthday party, you’ll let me go and give me the Babylon Candle to get me home?”

Tony nodded. “Yes. I promise.”

The star sat and thought. His companion seemed trustworthy. A bit naïve, but trustworthy. And his reason for entrapping him was so stupid, it had to be genuine. And the only way he knew to get back in the sky _was_ with a Babylon Candle…

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is very hard to describe the gloriousness that is Hugo Weaving, especially going from Red Skull to Johann Shmidt.


End file.
